The Greek Tycoon's Virgin Wife by Helen Bianchin

Author:Helen Bianchin [Bianchin, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Romance, Classic Romance, Fiction
ISBN: 9781426806681
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2007-09-30T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

IT CAME IN the dark hours after midnight…a kaleidoscope of images that broke through the realms of a dream as it surged headlong into nightmare. Hauntingly real and so frightening she threshed helplessly in a semi-conscious need to fight, to protect herself.

The nebulous male figure assumed Grant’s persona, his features becoming contorted with anger…the smell of alcohol a pungent entity as vile insulting words poured from his mouth and his hands became cruel, biting into her flesh, ripping at her clothes, forcing her to the floor. Her head rocked to one side from a stinging slap, and she cried out in sharp protest as she fought in desperation.

‘Easy, now.’

The voice was different, distant, just beyond her subconscious grasp, and she reached for it, instinctively craving help.

‘Ilana.’

The images faded as she came aware of a lit bedroom not her own, and her eyes dilated, starkly vulnerable with shadowed fear for a brief few seconds as she discovered she wasn’t alone.

Seconds when she defensively backed up against the bedhead in the bed until recognition hit…and the adrenalin dissipated as her heart slowly ceased thudding in her chest.

A nightmare. Dear God. It had just been a nightmare.

But so vivid she’d relived the reality from the moment Grant had appeared at her door on the eve of their wedding.

‘I’m OK.’

Xandro bit back an oath.

The hell she was.

He’d come sharply awake at the sound of a faint feminine scream, heard it again and he’d hit the floor, pulled on jeans and quickly sprinted to the opposite side of the gallery, where he opened the door of her suite and felt the breath hiss between his teeth at the sight of her caught in the grip of a hideous nightmare.

At that particular moment he wanted to tear apart the man responsible for causing her so much grief.

‘Does this happen often?’

Calm. Focus. She regulated her breathing, as she’d been taught to do, and forced herself to hold his gaze.

Until last night, she’d been doing fine. ‘Usually something acts as a trigger.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

A faint grimace twisted her lips. ‘I’ve talked the talk with therapists, and moved beyond the road less travelled.’ Her eyes were remarkably clear. ‘I don’t cry for me any more.’

It took time to rebuild trust. For some, it never happened.

‘Can I get something to help you sleep?’

Ilana didn’t want to sleep. Sometimes her subconscious mind took her right back to where the nightmare had left off.

‘I’ll read for a while. Maybe boot up my laptop.’

His presence disturbed her more than she wanted to admit. The jeans hung low on his hips, and he hadn’t pulled on a shirt…clear evidence his impressive breadth of shoulder owed nothing to padded tailoring. Well-honed muscles flexed in chiselled perfection with every movement, and she could almost feel the warm heat emanating from his body.

Xandro took in her pale features, the too-wide eyes, and there was a part of him that wanted to lie down with her, pull her in and assure her ex-fiancé would never have the opportunity to hurt her again.

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